


Sleeping at last

by JCMadGirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Hurt Peter, Implied/Referenced Torture, Irondad Big Bang 2019, Kidnapping, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Deserves Better, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCMadGirl/pseuds/JCMadGirl
Summary: Tony Stark doesn't realize how much he's come to care for Peter until the kid is being taken away from him.OrPeter gets kidnapped and is left to deal with the aftermath of everything that happened to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends!  
> This story is quite dark, so please read the warning at the end of every chapter and be safe!  
> Also the song is from Mars by Sleeping at last.

_[There is goodness in the heart_

_Of every broken man]_

 

Peter is trying to stop  a jewelry robbery when it happens.

There a few guys, four to be precise,  trying to steal as many jewels as possible, the alarm obnoxiously loud. They don't even seem to be armed.

It was supposed to be an easy one.

And for a minute it is, easy.

Peter webs one of the guys up before any of them can even see him.

He crawls his way to the second guy, shooting webs and immobilizing him. By then the other two have realized something's wrong. Guy number three is the fastest to react, throwing a punch aimed at Peter’s head. He blocks it, twisting the man's arm behind his back and kicking him down. He quickly shoots a Web and the fourth man's face, and another one at his hand, effectively blocking him in place.

That's when things start to go south.

Suddenly, the alarm stops. Peter thinks it might be the police finally arriving. He shoots one last Web and the third guy, locking him in place on the ground.

He turns, ready to leave the scene, only that is not the police who came.

It's three black vans. They don't look very friendly. He makes his way on the side of the building, high enough that he can keep an eye on everything.

“Hey Karen, who are these guys?”

“The vehicles don't have any recognizable sign.”

“Can you tell me something else?”

“Not much. The van is blocking out my connection.”

“Mh, I don't think they're here to chat.”

“I would suggest leaving.”

“Yeah, just a sec. I wanna see what they're up too.”

In retrospect, he should have listened to Karen.

Rapidly, several men exits the vans, and they're very much armed.

“Oh, jeez.”

And then, there are several red dots all pointing at his chest.

“Not good.” He has barely enough time to move before they shoot. He jumps off the building, flying through the air to the other side of the street. He shoots a few electric webs, a bunch of the Web granedes.

And then he's falling from the sky, the ground coming dangerously close, his entire life side burning.

“You've been shot on your left side. You're losing a lot of blood, but the bullet didn't hit anything vital. Should I call Mr . Stark?”

“No, it's okay, Karen. I got this.”

He swings, twists in the air, and manage to neutralize a bunch of the guys shooting at him.

Then he's hit again, on his tight this time.

“Sorry, Peter, but my protocol forces me to call Mr. Stark.”

“No, Karen, wait-

Then he's on the ground,face first. It hurts.

The men are on him in a second, but Peter is fast to get up, his leg that almost gives up under him. It's a twirling mess of punches and kicks, until everything slows down.

Peter feels something stinging him, a needle in the back of his neck.

“Karen-

“It's a sedative. A very powerful one, it seems to have neutralized your powers, including the accelerated healing. Your heart rate is slowing down. You're going to pass out in less than a minute.”

Peter feels it. He watches the world starting to spin around him, voices around him, far far away.

“Mr. Stark has been alerted. He's on-

Karen’s voice dies down abruptly. Someone took off his mask.

_Not good._

Then they're moving him. It's fast, a blur, and Peter tries to fight back, his limbs not responding. He's on the van, and they're leaving.

When he passes out, a few seconds later, Mr. Stark hasn't arrived yet.

**

Peter wakes up and everything is dark.

For a second everything it's fine. Then he remembers. The robbers. The ambush.

“Oh, God.”

Where is he?

He's in- a cell? God, who are this people?

It's a small room, with a tiny window near the ceiling. The door seems to be a solid piece of hard metal. Also, it's really cold. Peter can already feel the chill setting in his bones. He's not even wearing the suit anymore, instead he has a pair of old pants and a long sleeved, thin shirt, all in black.

He can't stay here. Which mean that he has to escape.

He doesn't even know where he is, he could be anywhere in the world.

He stands, and there's a moment when his legs almost give up under him. Peter leans against the wall, breathing deeply.

_Mr. Stark knows you're missing. He'll come. He's looking for you._

He realizes another thing. He has metal cuffs around his wrists, tight and freezing on his skin.

Maybe he can punch through the door.

He's about to try when the door swings open, and Peter feels nothing but pain. There's electricity running through his body, frying all his nerves. The cuffs are electrified.

Another wave of shock sends him on the ground, his limbs unresponding.

A man in a suit comes in. Peter is fairly certain he knows this man, he just can't quite place him.

 _Maybe_ it's because of all the extra electricity currently running in his body.

“Peter Parker.” The  man say. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Who are you?” Peter asks groggily. His vision is a little blurry, probably not good.

“I’m Secretary Ross.” Finally, it clicks.

“The Sokovia Accords.”

“Yes, that's me.” Ross steps in the room, and Peter pushes himself against the wall, trying to get up. “Stay down, please.”

“What do you want?”

“I've been looking for you for a while, now. You were quite difficult to catch.” Peter doesn't answer, panic starting to rise. “But now you're here. I'm sure we'll get along just fine, Peter.”

“I'm not who you're looking for.” he forces out.

This can't be happening.

“Oh but you are, aren't you, Spiderman?” Ross chuckles at himself quietly, staring at Peter with cold eyes. “We'll be running some _tests,_ and we'll find out what exactly you're capable of, what you're abilities are, and what their extent is.”

“You can't do this!” Ross doesn't answer, just gives him a cold, distant look, before leaving and shutting the door behind himself. Peter yells. He throws himself against the door, tries to punch his way through it. Calls for help, yells some more,  but no one comes.

He's alone, in the middle of fucking nowhere.

**

Tony stares at the monitor. Listens to the continuous,  monotone beep that means that Friday still hasn't found nor Peter nor his kidnapers.

It's been one day an half, and Tony is going crazy.

“Tony, you need to sleep.” Pepper says softly for the thousand time. Tony shakes his head.

“I have to find him.” he answers for the thousand time.

“At least eat something.” he grimaces. The thought of having to eat makes him want to puke.

“Not hungry.” Pepper sighs deeply.

“Tony.”

“I'm fine.” he grits out, standing. His knees pop ominously. “I’ll sleep when I find him.”

He got there too late. He found the vans and they were empty. They were vanished, and Peter with them.

Dread fills his chest, and Tony has to force himself to breathe. He can't afford panic. Peter can't afford him to panic.

Pepper doesn't add anything else, but she doesn't leave. Instead she sits on the couch on the far end of the lab, and starts typing on her StarkPad. Tony gets back to the computer.

He's going to find his kid.

**

When Peter opens his eyes the room is blinding. Everything is bright, too bright. He tries to lift one hand to cover his eyes and find that he can't. He's tied to a-- a bed?

God.

He blinks away the tears and looks around. Everything is white and the room it's empty. He looks down at the cuffs, both on his wrists and ankles, and wonders if those are electrified too.

Might as well try.

He puts all of his super strength in it, and screams when the shock wave hits him full force.

_God._

He's shaking when someone enters the room. His vision is a little blurry, and it takes the world a second to stop spinning. Ross and two other men - _doctors_ \- stare at him.

“W-What-

“Hello, Peter. This two nice gentle gentlemen are here to run some test. Unless you're willing to tell us exactly what your abilities are.” Peter just glares at him. “Thought so.”

One of the man, the taller one, hands him a folder. “It is reported that you posses super strength, ability to stick to any surface, and possibly, a healing factor. Sounds right, Peter?”

Again, Peter doesn't say anything.

“Alright, then. Why don't you start with this healing factor, Doctor?”

Tall Guy, the Doctor, nods, taking back the folder. The other guy, who Peter assumes is some kind of assistant, leaves the room, only to comeback with a cart with several, dangerous, painful - looking tools.

Ross looks at him.

“Last chance to talk, Parker.”

Peter doesn't answer, and watches Ross leave, shutting the door behind himself.

The Doctor is now by his side, and Peter finds himself looking into a pain of brown eyes, a weird glint in them.

The man shows him a small controller, with a single button on it. Peter’s spidey sense goes off.

_Dangere. Danger. Run. Runrunrun-_

“You try to run?” he says with a very nasal voice. Then he presses the button, and Peter feels the electricity fry every single nerve in his body. “You try to fight?” continues the man.

“No-

Again, Peter’s body arches on the bed, dots dancing in front of his eyes.

“Understood?”

There are already tears running on his cheeks. He nods.

“Good.” the Doctor puts down the controller. Short Guy hands him a small knife.

_Oh, God._

“What are you doing?” Peter whispers, heart beating so fast it might jump out of his chest. The Doctor doesn't answer.

And then Peter feels the coldness of the blade on his arm, feels the burning pain, watches the man cutting a straight vertical line from his wrist to his elbow, watches the blood pour out, so much and so red, and feels the skin immediately trying to heal, the cells working to close the cut.

“Interesting.” it's the only thing the Doctor says. Peter has never wanted to punch someone this bad.

And then the Doctor does it again. And again. And again, and again, and again  until Peter loses count, until there's  more blood on the bed than in his veins, until his body is a crisscrossed mess of red, angry lines, until he can't see anything anymore.

**

“We'll find him, Tony.” Rhodey says. “Both Nat and Clint are looking for him, and you know them. They'll find him.”

Tony runs one hand through his hair.

It's been four days now. By now, Tony is running on coffee and straight willpower.

_I can't lose him._

“I should have gotten there sooner.”

“You didn't know, Tony. It's not your fault.”

“But it is, it's my fault if he's god knows where! I- _fuck!”_

 _“_ Tony, we'll find him.”

“We have no leads, Rhodey.” he admits quietly, and he'd much prefer to be punched in the face.

Rhodey doesn't answer.

**

Peter has no idea how they found out about his enhanced senses.

He just knows that know his eyes are being melted off his face as the Doctor flashes bright lights in his face. And then there's that awful sound, like a ringing, but terribly loud. Peter’s head is screaming, all of his body _begging_ for this to stop, muscles contracting on the bed he's still tied to.

_Too much._

He thinks he might be screaming, but he's not sure, he can't hear anything beyond the high pitched ringing sound.

_Make it stop, please, please stop-_

He thinks he might be dying. There are tears streaming down his face, and everything _hurts_ , everything is so _goddamn_ loud- he can't do this, he's not strong enough-

_Just let me die, make it stop, please, please, please-_

Peter doesn't know for how long it goes, but when he stops he can't see anything, can't hear anything. Everything is black, the ringing still playing in his head.

There are hands grabbing his arms, pulling him down from the bed. He can't move, his limbs unresponding. When he falls, the floor is hard.

_Stop, God, please, stop._

The hands, rough and harsh, drag him back to what he assumes it's his cell. He doesn't hear the door opening, or closing, doesn't see the light coming from the small window.

_Oh God._

He lifts his shaking hands to his face, brushing over tears-stained cheeks, over his ears, and _fuck, they're bleeding._

_Oh God, no, no, please no._

The ringing hasn't stopped, his head is exploding.

He doesn't even hear the sobs escaping from his mouth.

**

Natasha looks at the mess she made.

“He - he'll kill me if-if I t-tell you.” The man sobs. He's covered in blood, thanks to her.

Clint shrugs beside her.

“She'll kill you now if you don't start talking.” the man looks up at her, fear shining bright in them.

“Who do you work for?”

“I can't - I can't -

Natasha shakes her head, kneels in front of him.

“Chris, I know you were one of the people who kidnapped Spiderman.” She says quietly, barely a whisper, really, but Clint is fairly sure her voice will hunt the man's dream for the rest of his life. If he survives tonight, that's it.

It took them quite some digging to identify the men involved. And then it took the  a couple of very bloody days to find any information on the handler. So far, they've been through three interrogations, but this guy right here, Chris-whats-his-name seems to be the one who spoke to the handler.

They've been here for a few hours.

Clint can see Natasha is starting to lose her patience.

They don't know how much time Peter has.

Chris flinches when Natasha stands. She looks at Clint, eyes hard.

“I'm really starting to get bored, Chris.” Natasha says, cooly. She reaches for her knife.

“Look, o-okay- I'll talk, just- stop her-

Clint nods at Natasha, and she gives him a small smile. He walks to the man, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Talk then. Who hired you?”

“I don't know his name.” he says quickly. “He- people call him the Helper.”

**

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Stark asks, body basically shaking with anger.

This _fucker_ took Peter.

Natasha shakes her head, looking much calmer than him _._ She looks at Clint.

“We don't know for sure. We looked around, asked some people. Mostly, it seems that people hire him to- I'm guessing smuggling other people.”

“Smuggle people _where?”_

“In and out various countries. From one place to another, to someone's house, whenever you need this person to be. He's specialized in making people disappear.”

The silence  that follows Nat’s words is heavy. Tony falls back in his chair, running one hand through his hair.

“What about Peter?” Pepper asks, beside him. She takes Tony’s hand under the table.

“The man didn't know.” Clint answers. “The only job they had was to drop Peter to a secondary location, where the Helper went to collect him.”

“We're already looking for this Helper guy, Stark. We'll find him.” Nat says, a note of softness in her voice.

Tony barely registers them leaving.

“Tony.” Pepper says his name quietly.

“How am I supposed to tell May all of this?”

“I can come with you, if you want.” Tony shakes his head.

“Don't worry.” he says, but knows that Pepper worries anyway. God, he's a mess. “I'll go look for this guy. He must _be_ somewhere.”

“Please be careful, Tony.” he forces a smile.

“I always am.”

**

_Spiders can't thermoregulate._

Peter is freezing. The cell is much colder than hours ago. Peter hugs his knees to his chest, his bruised ribs begging him to stop. His accelerated healing has also slowed down noticeably, wounds that would normally take a few hours to heal are now still open after at least a day. Peter is not sure if it's because of the sudden cold or because he's not eating enough. Probably both.

 _Also_ he still can't hear or see much. Peter guesses it's been at least a few days, but the ringing is still just as loud, though his vision is slowly coming back. Painfully slow. He can only see various shades of grey.

He's really tired.

When the door opens, several hours later, Peter is about to pass out from exhaustion, the cold that has settled deeply into his bones.

Peter recognizes the white shape of the Doctor when he comes in followed by a couple of darker shapes. Peter forces himself to get up, fails miserably, and leans against the wall instead. Shape Number One grabs his arms, hits him behind his knee and Peter finds himself of the ground one more time.

_Great._

Shape Number Two helps the other man to hold Peter down when  he starts trashing. He knows it's pointless -he's too cold, and too weak, and too tired- but he'll be damned if he goes down  without a fight.

Shape Number One then grabs Peter’s hair and harshly  pulls back his head. He watches the Doctor move, but he can't make out what he's doing, only that he's coming closer. And then the man is injecting _something_ in Peter’s neck, and it stings a lot.

-What did you do?” he yells, and he can barely hear it over the ringing. None of the men answer him.

He tries to stand. He needs to leave this fucking place.

Only that whatever they gave him is already starting to make effect. He feels the room  starting to spin, and he feels sicks, like he's about to puke.  

_Oh god, oh shit-_

And then everything goes dark.

**

Peter opens his eyes and sees May. He blinks and she's still there.

May smiles softly at Peter like she always does.

“Hey baby.”

“May?” his voice is barely audible over the ringing, but May's is clear as summer skies.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, sitting up slowly. They're in his cell.

God.

His head hurts a lot.

“It's your fault, really.” She says and Peter freezes.

“W-what?”

Something is very, very wrong.

“You just _had_ to go and be Spiderman, didn't you?” She spits out, her eyes suddenly much darker. Peter can't remember one time she looked this angry.

“I-I-

“You ruined my life, Peter. I didn't even want children and now I'm stuck with you. All you powers and you can never get anything right.” May pushes her hair out of her face, her cold eyes burning holes in Peter’s chest. “You couldn't even save Ben.”

A punch would have hurt much less.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out, tears streaming down his face again.

“You're a failure, Peter. Just a waste of space and nothing more.”

He shakes his head.

“I-I’m sorry, I-

“Always crying. Pathetic.” Peter flinches, and May scoffs. “Weak.”

Peter looks at her, and his chest feels terribly heavy. He can't breathe. God, he can't breathe.

He leans against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. He's shaking, and his heart is racing, and blood his pumping in his ears, and the ringing is so _loud._

“I'm sorry.” he whispers, and it's barely audible. “I’m so sorry, I-I never - I didn’t-

May laughs, humorless and quiet

“What? Is that a panic attack? Are you that messed up?” Peter shakes his head. He's going to die, it feels like he's about to die.

“I'm sorry.”

“Worthless.” May hisses.

“I’m sorry.”

“A disappointment, it's what you are.”

“I'm sorry.”

**

May doesn't leave. She keeps talking, and with every word she says Peter breaks a little. The cells is dark and cold, and the only thing beyond May's voice is the ringing, both of them are persistent and driving Peter crazy.

Peter stares at her, and May stares back.

He'd apologize again but he has no voice left, or tears, really.

He forces himself to stand, his legs that feel like jelly. He walks toward her, and May doesn't move.

When Peter tries to touch her, his hands goes straight through her. May rolls her eyes.

“Great, he's also an idiot.”

“You're not real.” Peter whispers, voice hoarse.

“But you're going crazy.”

“I-I don't - understand.”

God he is an idiot. He runs one shaking hand over his face. “The injection.”

May shrugs.

“I still mean everything I said.”

“Shut up. You're not real. You- you are just an hallucination.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You're still a big, worthless, useless, fuck up.”

Peter goes back to his corner. Sits back down.

_I'm going crazy._

_**_

Sometime later - hours? Days? Peter sure as fuck doesn't know- the door opens and two dark shapes come in. He still can't see. The days are starting to blend in with each other. 

May gives him a pleased smile when  the two guards take his arms and take his wherever Peter is supposed to be.

There's a white shape in the room, the form a little more defined. The Doctor.

The guards forces him down on the bed, cuff his wrists and ankles.

The Doctor says something, but Peter can't hear anything.

“-Healing factor... slowed down...Injection.” Peter doesn't move.  If all the injection was supposed to do was slowing down his accelerated healing, they fucked up badly.

He looks over at May.

“You're not even supposed to be here.” he grunts.

“Why? Don't you miss your Auntie?”

Peter ignores her, his attention shifting back to something shiny over his chest.

“Oh no.” he whispers. He can hear the Doctor saying something, but he can't make out any of the words. And then the man rips open his already ruined shirt and cuts straight down his chest.

“You deserve this.” May says, and Peter screams.

**

Peter wakes up in his cell, and May is in one corner. She waves at him.

“Good morning, loser.”

Peter ignores her, and focus instead on trying to sit up. It hurts. It hurts a lot. Whatever was in that injection is working, and his accelerated healing is not so accelerated anymore. He's covered in dried blood and open cuts.

He decided against sitting up and lets himself fall down on the ground again.

It's cold, but Peter barely notices with all the pain he's in.

“Hey, kid.”

_God, no._

He turns his head sharply. May is gone, and in her place is now Mr. Stark.

“You're not real.” Peter says.

_Please, not again._

“I'm real enough.” the man answers. “I just dropped  by to tell you something.” Peter closes his eyes.

“You're not real.”

“No one is coming for you.” Mr. Stark says, and it's crushing.

“You're lying.”

He can't believe that. He can't. If he does, he won't survive. He has to believe that they're looking for him, and that he's not alone.

“I am not, Peter. You know it too. Who would look for you? The _Avengers?_ They have far more important thing than look for some annoying, boring kid from Queens. A nobody, really. And you've heard your Aunt May, she is better off without you.”

“She's not real. You're not real.”

“You know I'm right, Peter. You _know_ you're not important enough. You _know_ you're not worth it. _You're_ not worth it. _You_ are not enough. You never were and you never will.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I don't think I will. You know I'm right. You'll die here, Peter, alone and forgotten. It's all you deserve.”

“Please, just shut up- please.”

But Mr. Stark doesn't listen to him.

**

“Tony we found the Helper.” Natasha says over the phone, and Tony’s heart skips a few  beats. “We got a location and a name.”

“Where is he?” he grits out, the suit already assembling on him.

“Just out of Washington. He has a residence there. Clint and I are on our way.”

“Meet you there.” he says and closes the call. Natasha has already sent in the address, and Tony call Pepper while the map open in front of his eyes.

“Tony?”

“Hey, Pep. We found the guy. We're going after him.”

There's silence for a brief second. Tony sends a message to Rhodey with the location.

“God, be careful, Tony. And bring back the kid.”

“Will do, Pep. Call you later.”

“I love you, Tony.”

“Love you too.”  he ends the call.

“Fri? We ready to head out?”

“Suit is at full power.”

“Tell me everything you can find on this guy.”

**

Mr. Stark hasn't stopped talking since he appeared, and Peter is starting to wish he bled out. It would have hurt less. He doesn't tell it to the hallucination, but he doesn't even need to, because it's all in his head anyway.

God.

He's about to pass out when the door opens again. Peter pushes himself against the wall. He's not ready for another round with the Doctor's knives.

He barely has time to realize there's only one dark shape instead of two that a wave of electricity runs through his body.

All the air is sucked from his lungs as his body shakes on the ground.

The man closes the door behind himself, and Peter can barely make out the outline of the man, he's very big. He feels the hands grabbing his arm and pulling him on his feet, only to kick him in the stomach.

Peter falls on his on knees again, bending over and definitely coughing out blood.

“What the fuck-

“Quiet.” the man must scream if Peter can hear him over the ringing.

Another shock wave fries through his nerves, his heart maybe stopping and restarting, mind foggy and heavy.

The hands are on him again, rough and harsh. They grab Peter’s hair and drag him across the cells. The man ties his up with heavy chains and they rattle when he tries to break them, consequential triggering the shock wave one more time.

The man grabs his hair again and slams his head against the wall.

Blood trickles down his forehead, over his eyes.

He would like to fight back, but he can't move.

The man takes his chin, tilting his head up.

“Pretty boy.” he says, right in Peter’s ear. It sends chills down his back.

“Fuck you.” that earns him a punch straight on the nose. The man says something else but this time he doesn't hear it.

He sees Mr. Stark cackling quietly in the background, casually leaning against the wall.

But then the hands are on his hips, tight, demanding.

_Oh, God. God no._

“Don't move.” the man says, and Peter shivers.

Mr. Stark laughs.

The man pulls down Peter’s pants, and he starts trashing immediately. This can't be happening, this is not happening.

_Please no, please no, please, stop, please._

“No, stop, stop- God, please,  pl- _please-_

The man elbows him in the stomach, and covers Peter’s mouth with one hand, effectively blocking out all the air.

Peter tries to fight back, he does. He tries to push back the man, to break the chains, and all he gets is more electricity.

And then there's pain, worse than anything Peter ever felt, burning, splitting, shattering.

It doesn't stop, and it takes and takes and takes until Peter doesn't  have anything anything left to give. It

There's blood, everywhere, it's all Peter can taste, and smell and feel.

It's the kind of pain that breaks people, and Peter does feel broken, so, so broken.

He feels those hands holding his hips, and leaving angry bruises behind. He feels those hands around his throat, lungs on fire, and he wishes he could just die.

He wishes he could die and _stop_ this.

But it doesn't stop, until it does and Peter is left with nothing but emptiness and so, so much blood.

**

Tony holds the man's neck and almost snaps it in a half.

But he doesn't.

Instead he lets Clint cuff him.

“We'll take him back the compound and I'll have a small chat with him.” Natasha says. Tony nods, and forces himself to look away from the man.

His eyes roam over the bodies they left behind. The Helper was very much guarder, but this people never stood a chance against them.

Rhodey puts one hand over his shoulder.

“You okay?”

Tony nods again, fists clenched.

“Just peachy.”

“You won't find the kid.” the Helper says, and Natasha quickly kicks him in the guts. The Helper laughs. “Maybe you'll find his body, if you're lucky.”

Rhodey has to physically stop Tony from immediately slaughtering this piece of shit.

“He's just trying to rile you up, Tony. We'll find him.”

“You'll tell us everything.” Tony says quietly, coldly. “Or I'll make you wish you were dead.”

**

It takes them days, but in the end the Helper starts talking.

When Tony finally gets the name of who's behind all this, he burns with rage.

God-fucking-dammit.

“Should have fucking known it was him.” he mutters.

“If Ross has him, then he's probably in the Raft.”

“We can't just walk in one of the most secure prisons of the world. We need some kind of plan.”

“Also, that place is huge. We don't know where he is exactly.”

“And, cherry on top, if Ross finds out it was us, he'll make sure we end up there as well.”

“Guys, guys calm down. I know. But you're also forgetting that I hacked in their system once, and I can do it again.” Tony says, and he knows for a fact that he can. “I could probably find Peter’s cell in a minute, _and_ make sure you guys go unnoticed.”

Natasha nods.

“We'll fly there with the Quinjet, Rhodey you come with us, stay on the plane as  back up. Clint and I go in, get the kid, get out.”

“What about me?” Tony says immediately. "I'm coming with you, no way I'm siting this one out.”

“Yes, you are.” Nat says and her voice is final.

“What the _fuck-_

 _“_ Look, Tony, I understand, but you're too emotionally invested. You could get yourself or the kid hurt, and we can't afford that.”

“And I'm sure Ross will figure out in a second it was us, there are not so many people who can hack that system. We need you here to cover for us, to make sure he can't trace it back to us.”

God. Tony hates this people.

He knows they're right. It makes sense. It does, Tony understands it.

Just.

It's Peter.

_It's Peter._

He nods before he can even think about it.

“Okay. Okay, I'll stay here, but I want constant updates.”

“You can count on it.”

Rhodey pats his back.

“Let's gets to work then.”

**

Peter doesn't move for a long time. Mr. Stark is there, and he hasn't stopped talking since the man left, but Peter hasn't paid attention to a single word he said. He can't.

Instead, what happened keeps replaying in his head, again, and again, until Peter doesn't feel anything but numbness.

He leans against the wall. He's cold, hasn't stopped shaking yet. He thinks he might die in there.

_No one is coming for you anyway._

He starting to wish he were already dead.

Tears well up in his eyes again. God.

“All your powers and you couldn't even stop him. How weak. How pathethic. But I'm not surprised after all, you kinda are a big disappointment since the beginning.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I don't care. No one does.” Peter covers his ears in a stupid attempt to block out the man. The ringing gets louder, but not enough to cover Mr. Stark. “You'll die here,

Peter, and no one will miss you.”

Somewhere far, far away Peter hears a scream. It might just Peter himself. He doesn't know.

There's silence again, Mr. Stark just stares at him, and Peter can't look him in the eyes.

_You deserved it._

_It was your fault._

_Weak._

The world starts spinning, and Peter feels sick. _Oh god._

_Pathetic._

_All your powers. Useless. Your fault._

_My fault._

_I deserved it._

_I'll die here._

He turns on his side and throws up whatever is left in his stomach, which isn't much. His throat burns like acid, body convulsing.

_I don't want to die._

Mr. Stark laughs, the world tilts and falls and breaks and Peter breaks with it.

_I'm sorry._

“I'm sorry.”

The door opens, the light is blinding.

“Peter?” he looks up, squeezing his eyes. Two figures, lean and dark.

Peter is not sure he could handle another session with the Doctor.

_Maybe he'll kill me for good this time._

But the figures are not here to hurt him. The smaller one steps closer slowly.

Peter needs his eyes to start working again. He blinks several times, trying to make out the details of this person. The splash of red seems familiar.

“Peter can you hear me?” he nods. To be true, Peter can barely hear the words. “It's Natasha. We're going home.”

Peter doesn't trust it.

“Are you real?” Natasha hesitate, if Peter focuses hard enough he can almost make out her eyes.

“Yes, very much so.” She says. She takes his hand, and Peter flinches hard  pulling back.

“The cuffs.” he chokes out. “They're electrified.” Natasha nods. She turns to the other  figure, who Peter assumes is Clint. There's movement, Peter doesn't understand a single word of what they say. Then Natasha takes his hand again.

“It's okay, Peter. Tony has cut all the power from the Raft. We need to leave now.” She talks closely to his ear, and loud enough that he can hear her. He nods.

Mr. Stark, the hallucination, snickers in the background, and Peter forces himself to her ignore him.

“You won’t make it. You'll ruin everything.”

He glares at the hallucination, and the follows Natasha and Clint out of the cell.

**

Tony hands fly over the keyboard, Friday talking from  the ceiling, constantly updating him of the position of his friends.

He has the blueprint of the Raft open on  his monitors, an hologram of the prison in 3D. He follows the two red dots, Natasha and Clint,  and the blue one, Peter. He opens one door after the other, closing it behind them. Everything is going rather smoothly, apart from  one guard who wasn't where he was supposed to be. It took the assassins less then ten second to take him down.

And now they're coming back, and Peter is right with them.

Then the phone rings.

“Boss, incoming call from Secretary Ross.”

_Great._

“Answer it.” he says to the AI.

“Stark.” God, Tony hates this man.

_Calm down, Tony.  Breathe._

“Ross, always not a pleasure to hear from you.”

“Stark, I know it's you-

“Sorry to interrupt, but I really don't know what you're referring to. You'll have to be more specific.”

“They're on the roof, Boss.” Friday says in his ear piece. Tony closes the last door, the Quinjet camera's zooming in on them.

_Peter._

He looks like shit, even with the shit quality of the camera.

 _Oh god._ He looks like absolute shit, but he's alive. That's all that matters, they can fix everything else.

“The Raft.” Ross almost yells. Tony can't help but smile. “I know you're the one to cut down electricity. What are you trying to do?”

“I'm not doing anything, Ross.” he tries to sound as bored as possible, fingers moving rapidly. “Why would I hack into your tin can?”

“Boarding the jet.” Natasha says in the comm. Relief washes over him. And then Tony sets off the alarm. Time to evacuate this shithole.

“Stark-

“Maybe you need better security. Your system does kinda sucks, sorry.”

“I swear to God, Stark, if it's you-

“It's  not.”

“-I'll make sure you won't see the light of the day every again.”

_Cover the tracks._

Tony knows Ross won't ever let it go. When he finds out Peter is gone, he won't stop looking for him until the kid is back in the Raft. Only that, Ross can't do that if there's no Raft.

He checks one more time his friends are all on the Quinjet. The evacuation is proceeding fast. Time to act.

“Always nice talking to you, Secretary.” he says, and then the side of the Raft explodes.

The call ends, and the Raft starts sinking.

“Tony? We're on our way.” Rhodey says.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, welcome back!  
> I wanna thank everyone who left a comment or a kudos, because they make my day every time, thank you guys!  
> Please read the notes at the end for warnings and be safe.

Peter wakes up in a bright room and instantly panics. 

He's on the bed, but weirdly enough he's not cuffed. He rolls over, falling on the floor. Something is pulling at his arm. Tubes. There are tubes pumping  _ something  _ in his blood 

“Oh, not again.” he rips them out, a groan escaping past his lips. 

“Peter!” he looks up. His eyes are still not working as they should, but Peter can make out May's face good enough, and the brown hair falling on her shoulder. 

_ Great. _

She's not as vivid as the other hallucination, though, instead she's very blurry.

“You're not real.” he whispers, and the hallucination flinches, stepping back. 

_ Nice.  _

Now, he has to get out of here,  this might be his chance. He leans against the wall, using it as support to try and get up.

God, he's so weak. 

“Get up, Peter.” he tells himself. The ringing is much quieter than last time. Okay, cool. He got this. He has to make it. 

It takes him a minute to stand, his legs unsteady under him.

“Peter, God, sit back down-

Peter ignores May, trying to blink away the red spots in front of his eyes.

Then people are coming in the room, and Peter knows he failed. 

_ Shit. _

He's sure Ross isn't just going to let it slide, nor is the Doctor.

“Peter- you're awake, thank god- what the  _ fuck  _ are you doing?” that's Mr. Stark. Or the hallucination, more likely.

He doesn't answer, trying instead to figure out who the other people are. There are two woman in white clothes, and- Natasha and Clint? 

He doesn't have time to wonder what is happening, because then May is lifting her hand to touch him, and Peter  _ know  _ it's just gonna go through Peter, but it  _ doesn't _ . May is touching him, her hand actually laying over Peter’s shoulder.

_ Oh, shit. _

“May?” he asks, voice cracking. She smiles and it's the soft, warm smile Peter remembers. He feels tears fill his eyes, as he momentarily forgets how to breathe. “I- I don't- 

He turns to Natasha and Clint, still by the door. 

“You- you were- you saved me? That- that was real?” he stutters. Natasha nods.

“You're home, Peter.” She says.

His eyes move on Mr. Stark. 

“Hi.” he whispers. “You look tired, Mr. Stark.” the man smiles, his body seeming to lose all of the tension in a moment.

“Hey, kid.” 

Peter turns back to May. 

“What happened?  Where- how long--

“Secretary Ross kidnapped you.” Natasha is the one to answer, and he looks back at her, her body blurry and unfocused. May guides him back to bed, and Peter happily flops back on it, exhausted beyond belief. “He kept you in his prison, the Raft. It was one of the most secure prisons in the world.”

“Was?” 

“I blew it up.” Mr. Stark admits with small grin. 

“ _ What _ ? How did you do it? How did you even find me?”

“Ross hired a guy named the Helper, he's the one who got you and then gave you to Ross. You were there for little over a month.”

“ _ A month?”  _

“It's okay, Peter. You're home, now.” May takes his hand, warm and grounding. 

“I'm sorry.” and he almost throws up. “I didn't mean- I should have been more careful-

“No, baby, no, it wasn't your fault!” May says quickly, but then his spidey sense goes off, and there's a hand in his hair -it's  going to pull,  it's going to  _ hurt _ , the man-

“Peter,  _ breathe.”  _ he looks up and the fuzzy face of Mr. Stark is suddenly in front of him. 

Peter can't breathe. He can feel ghostly hands holding tight around his throat, phantom pain shooting through his body. 

_ Oh, god. _

The ringing is now impossibly loud, drowning out all the voices. 

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

He forces his eyes open, pressing one hand down on his chest. 

_ Focus. _

He manages to get some air back into his lungs, his vision clearing up a little,  the ringing quieting just a bit. 

He looks up and sees May.

_ She's real.  _

“Breathe, baby, breathe for me, Peter.” 

And so Peter takes the hand she's offering, holding it tight, and focusing on breathing, until he doesn't feel like dying anymore. 

“I'm sorry.” he chokes out. “I'm sorry.” 

May doesn't try to touch him anywhere else but his hands, just whispering nonsense in Peter’s ear. 

When he looks up again finds several worried faces all staring at him, most of all Mr. Stark. 

“I think Peter needs to rest.” One of the lady in white breaks the silence. She kinda reminds him of the Doctor. He shivers.

She steps closer, but not close enough to set off any alarm. 

“Peter, I'm Doctor Cho. I've been working with Mr. Stark for a long time now, I'm very good at treating enhanced individuals like yourself. Before I let you rest I need to ask you some questions, okay?”

Peter nods, and May's grip tightens for a moment.

“Do you remember what happened in the Raft?” he nods. He remembers everything very vividly. “Do you know if they gave you any sort of serum? I've been told you have an healing factor, but your healing has been slower than even a normal person.”

_ Not good. _

“They- the Doctor gave me some kind-  I'm not - some kind of injection to slow it down.” he looks down, and his eyes fall on his wrists. The skin has scarred real bad under the cuffs. And there are two thin lines on each of his arms, all the way to his elbows. 

Doctor Cho writes something down on her notebook, then looks at him again.

She's much nicer than  the Doctor, Peter decides.

“Anything else I should know?” 

Peter hesitates. May nudges him on the side.

“I- I can't really- can't really see much.” he murmurs, eyes down. “Or hear.” 

“What the  _ fuck.”  _ that's Mr. Stark. Peter doesn't look up, the tears are back.

“How did it happen?  Was it the injection?” Doctor Cho asks, and Peter shakes his head.

He's shaking, he breathes deeply and hides his hands under the blanket.

“The Doctor flashed me with- with these really bright lights- and there was a- like a really loud ringing- I- I couldn't see anything and only heard the ringing for a while. But, it's, uh, getting better, I think- I don't - I'm not sure.” 

“Peter.” May says softly, and he can tell she's also about to start crying. Doctor Cho writes everything down. 

“Alright, Peter. Why don't you rest up a bit, yeah? We'll give you an IV, you're very dehydrated. I'll come back later to check up on you.”  Peter nods, exhaling deeply. 

Resting does sound good. He turns back to May.

“Stay here?” he says quietly - _ pathetic, weak-  _ and she nods, smiling softly.

“Of course, baby, I'm not going anywhere.”

**

Peter wakes up screaming. He covers his mouth with his hands, his body shaking. 

Everything is dark, and the ringing is painfully loud, the room spinning around him.

“Peter!” May is yelling, her voice barely audible to Peter. She takes his hand and Peter flinches hard, heart racing in his chest.

Peter can see her lips moving, but can't make out what she's saying. He looks down at their intertwined hands, holding tight, focusing on that.

_ She's real. I'm home. I'm safe. I'm okay. _

_ I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine- _

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe. _

When he looks up again, the ringing is not as loud anymore. May opens her arm, an invite, if Peter wants to take it.

He does. God, he does. 

May wraps him in her arms, warm and familiar, and he presses his face into her chest. She doesn't move her hands, doesn't try to touch him anywhere but his shoulders. Peter can handle this. This is good.

May holds him until Peter doesn't feel like falling apart anymore. He pulls back, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Are you okay?” May asks. He nods, still shivering. He's very cold, now that he thinks about it.

“Kinda cold.” 

“Hold on, I think they said that blankets should- here they are!” May closes back the closet in the back of the room, two big, soft blankets in her arms. She puts one over his bed, leaving the other at the bottom. “If you're still cold we'll put down this one too.” She says, smiling. 

“Thanks, May.” he forces a smile of his own, playing with his fingers. 

“It's nothing, baby. Why don't you try to sleep some more? It's super early.” he nods, laying back down in the bed. May goes back to the couch, stretching her legs. 

She smiles at him one more time, and eventually, her breath evens out. She's sleeping. 

Peter, instead, stares at the ceiling, wishing he could sleep too.

When the sun starts rising, he's still awake.

**

Doctor Cho clears him to leave a few days later. He's spent the whole week in his bed, resting. He's still tired, but the effects of the injection seem to have vanished, and the hallucination with it. The only May and Mr. Stark he sees now are the real ones. 

He hasn't been sleeping a lot, but Peter is not surprised. Tired, but not surprised. 

So now, he's back at home. It looks exactly how he left it. 

He exhales deeply. Being home feels good.

May cooks him dinner that night, his favorite food, which is chocolate cake. 

He's lost some weight, a lot of weight really, down in the Raft. 

They sit in the small kitchen, Peter wrapped in a big, warm hoodie, even though it's not that cold. “Ned called again, today.” May says. Peter looks up, feeling guilty for ignoring his friend. He hasn't answered any of Ned and MJ’s calls. 

How do you tell your friends you've been kidnapped and tortured and now can't even be touched without freaking out? Or that you're half blind and half deaf? Peter sighs. 

“He misses you.” May adds, worry bleeding in her voice.

“I know. I just- I don't know- how do I tell them about - about all that?”

“You don't have to tell them right away, or ever, if you don't want to. I'm sure they'll respect your decisions and won't push you if you're uncomfortable with it.” Peter shrugs.

“I don't want things to be different between us. I don't- I don't wanna ruin our friendship.”

“You won't, Pete. There's nothing wrong in putting down boundaries and some ground rules, you know?”

Peter nods, hands shaking slightly under the table. May notices anyway. 

“You'll be okay, Peter. It- it will take some time, but you will. And your friends can help you, if you let them.”

“Thanks, May.”

“No problem, babe. Now eat your damn cake.” Peter gives her a small smile as he dives in the cake.

**

Peter turns his phone in his hands, finger hovering over the call button. 

_ They'll understand. They love you. _

_ What if they don't? What if they leave me? _

_ What if they stay, instead? _

The ringing is a bit too loud for comfort. Doctor Cho said it might take a will, but that it will heal, and so will his eyes. It still hurts.

“Just do it, Parker.” he says to himself, and before he can  regret it, he presses the button. Ned answers almost immediately.

“Peter! Oh my God, Peter, man, how are you? Where have you been? God I was so worried, and so was MJ, even though she pretended she wasn't,  but she totally was. I missed you, man - Pete?” 

Peter is hyperventilating a little. He huffs a laugh, relief washing over him.

“Hi, Ned.” his voice cracks, but he doesn't care.  “I missed you too.”

“What happened, Pete? No one would tell us anything.” 

“I- I'm not sure I can- I don't know if I can talk about it, yet.” he admits, closing his eyes.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe. _

“Are you okay, though?” 

“Yeah. Well- I will.” 

“Can we come over, like, one of these days? We really  _ really  _ missed you.” 

“Yeah - yeah I'd like that.”

“Cool, I have so many things to tell you, like, so much shit went down while you were gone at school, you wouldn't believe it. And I got the new Cloud City Lego set from Star Wars, man its huge- 2812 pieces, I'll bring it so we can build it together, and I'll tell MJ too-

Peter listens to Ned talk for almost two hours, speaking up every once in a while, until his breath evens out. 

Eventually Ned gives him the goodnight, and ends the call. Peter smiles at himself. 

_ You'll be okay. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. _

_ **  _

Peter wakes up screaming, sweaty and tangled in his bed sheets. He can't move, can't breathe. 

_ Please don't hurt me, please stop, please, please- _

“Peter!” May enters in his line of vision, and Peter stills.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe. _

“It was just a nightmare, sweetheart. You're okay now. You're home.”

He forces himself to look around, eyes taking in his room. He's home, not in the Raft. The Raft has sunk. Peter nods, exhaling deeply. He's still shaking, cold set deep into his bones.

“Sorry I woke you.” 

“Hey no, none of that. It's not your fault, Peter, you don't have to apologise. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” he says, rubbing his eyes. He's really tired, now that he thinks about it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” May asks softly, taking his hand.

Peter thinks about the man, the hands he still feels around his throat, bruising and demanding, and thinks about the phantom pain lingering in his body, and no, he doesn't think he'll ever tell May about this. It would break her like it broke Peter, and she doesn't deserve that.

He shakes his head.

“No, it was just- it wasn't anything particular. I - I don't remember it anyway.” lying to May feels wrong, but Peter forces himself to ignore that thought. Instead he focuses on May, grounding without being oppressing, and tries to smile at her. 

“Can I give you a kiss, Pete?” He nods, and does his best to not flinch away when she presses her lips on his forehead. “If you ever want to talk about it, or anything else, you can always come to me.”

“I know, May. Thank you.”

“If love you, Peter.”

“Love you too.” 

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No, it's okay.” May smiles at him.

“Goodnight, Pete.” he waves at her when she leaves the room and flops back on his bed. 

He doesn't fall asleep again, his mind replaying the same scenes over and over in front of his eyes until the sun rises.

**

Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts come over for lunch. 

May does try to cook, Peter will give her that, it's just that it's - it's terrible. She orders take out from a Chinese place down the street instead. 

“You didn't have to come all the way down here.” Peter tries to say, wrapped in his oversized hoodie. Mr. Stark waves him off.

“It's not like we had anything to do, right Pep?” Pepper smiles.

“I would have just eaten lunch by myself in my office, this is much better.” She says, and Peter smiles back at her. 

There's something special about Pepper Potts, like you always know when she's in the room, but she's not as noticeable as Mr. Stark. She has a much more calming effect, like you won't ever have to worry about anything because she's got your back. Peter likes her.

“See?” Tony says. “No problem at all.” Mr. Stark winks at him, and Peter nods. He helps May to set up the table while they wait for the food. 

“How's it going, kid?” Mr. Stark asks him a few minutes later. Peter shrugs.

“I'm okay.” he says, and knows that the man doesn't believe him not ever for a second. 

“Being home helps, though, right? If not you can always come back at the Compound, we have plenty of empty rooms anyway.” 

“I think I'm fine here, i- I really missed being home while- uhm.” 

_ Pathetic.  _ The voice sounds a lot like Mr. Stark.

“Yeah I feel you, bud. Just know if you need something, well, I'm very rich and can get you basically anything, kid.” Peter laughs quietly.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony.” Peter just smiles, and then the food is there. 

They eat exchanging questions and answers, until Ms. Potts tells May about a new beauty salon she's been going to, and just like that they're talking about getting some kind of beauty treatment together. Mr. Stark turns to Peter, who is still shoving food in his mouth. 

For once he's really hungry, his enhanced metabolism powering back on.

“How are your eyes, kid? And ears.”

“Uhm- everything is still kinda foggy and blurry. Like I see shapes and colors but can't make out any detail, you know? And the ringing is still there, just, much quieter. Sometimes is gets worse though.”

“Like when?” Peter shrugs.  He doesn't really want to tell him about the nightmares and the ringing that seemed to destroy his ears for how loud it gets.

“Like when I'm stressed.” he says in the end. Mr. Stark nods. 

“Well, why don't you come with me to the lab, today? We can play around with some new stuff I got. I've got some things I think you'll love.” 

“Really? What kind of stuff?” 

“Well, I've been looking into nanotechnology, and I'm looking for a way to use that to build a new suit.”

“That's super cool, Mr. Stark!”

“It's settled, then? I'll take you back home tonight.” Peter turns to May, who has a fond smile on her face.

“Of course you can go, Pete. It'll be good for you.” She says. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Of course, Aunt May.” She squeezes Peter’s hand and then they leave into Mr. Stark’s limo, with Pepper telling May to text her about that mani and pedi thing. 

“Hey Happy.” Peter greets the driver, who, for once, smile back at him.

“Good to see you're back, kid.”

“Happy to see you too, Happy.

“Very funny.” 

**

There's something they didn't consider, which is to say that Peter still can't see shit. 

He can't build something if he can't even see what he's got in his hands. It has Peter on the verge of an anxiety attack in a minute.

“What if I can't see anything ever again, Mr. Stark? What if- what if they broke me for good and I can't- I won't-

“Peter, kid, you need to breathe, okay?  Doctor Cho said it will heal, you just have to give it some time, okay? Peter,  _ breathe.” _

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

“I'm really scared, Mr. Stark.” he whispers,  hands shaking at his sides. “What if I can't ever work with you again? What if I can't be Spider-man anymore?” 

Mr. Stark lifts one hand, and Peter  _ knows  _ he's not going this hurt him, the opposite probably, but he still jerks back. Mr. Stark is silent for a second. 

“Look, Pete, none of that is gonna happen. And even if it does, we'll figure something out.” Mr. Stark hesitate for a second, before speaking again. “You're not alone in this, kid.” 

**

They spend the rest of the day with Tony reading a book to Peter about nanotechnology. Peter takes notes, and they brainstorm a few ideas, trying to start on a blueprint. 

Peter lays on the couch with his legs propped on the  armrest and Tony spins around the Lab on his chair while they talk.

Tony always knew the kid is bright, probably as smart as Tony is, if not more.

“Alright, coffee is finished, time to take a break.” Peter blinks.

“What did you with the real Mr. Stark?”

“It's Tony, kid, how many times do I have to tell you?” Peter gives his a bright smile and it warms Tony’s chest. “C’mon let's go.”

On the way to the kitchen Peter walks straight into a glass door, then trips on his own feet and falls on the floor.

“ _ Shit!” _ Tony is there in a second. 

“Pete? You okay, buddy?” Peter nods, sitting up. He sighs heavily, pressing one hand to his forehead. 

“Yeah. I hate this.” He murmurs, and Tony couldn't agree more. He lifts his hand slowly, so Peter can move if he wants to, but the kid doesn't. Tony pats his shoulder, leaving his hand there.

“You'll get better.” Peter nods, leaning a bit into the touch.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” 

“C’mon, I'll make you dinner and then I'll take home. Sounds good?” Tony asks, offering his free hands. Peter takes it and Tony helps him up.

“Sounds great.”

**

The next day Ned and MJ come over. 

“Hey, man, so good to see you!” Ned almost yells, as he and Peter exchange their secret handshake.

“Hey, MJ.” Peter says, wondering if a panic attack it's an honest price to pay for hugging her. In the end, MJ chooses for him, punching his arm gently. 

“Hey loser.” 

The eat some cookies while May chats a bit with them, and then they move into Peter’s room. Ned brought his Lego with him, and MJ has a book with her as usual. 

“So, how's - how's school?” Peter asks after a while.

“Eh, school it's school, you know. We miss you on the Decathlon team, though. And Flash is still  dick.” Peter snorts.

“So it's exactly like how I left it.” 

“Pretty much.” Ned smiles. He throws a look at MJ, and she shrugs. Then Ned looks back at Peter. “Are you coming back?” 

Peter blinks. He looks down at his hands, at the Lego scattered around him, still a blurry mess of colors. 

“Yeah, I think so.” he answers in the end. “I just - I still can't see or hear shit, and, uhm, it's all very- it's a lot. I will, eventually, I just need- some time. To readjust.”

_ Focus, Peter.  Breathe. _

“It's cool, man. Take your time.”

“Yeah it's not like they're teaching anything anyway.”  MJ adds with a smile playing on her lips. Peter smiles back.

“Thanks, guys.”

**

Peter waves goodbye to his friends and closes the door behind them.

Aunt May is in the kitchen with a cup of tea between her hands.

“Pete? Come here for a sec?” 

May pours him a cup of tea.

“What's up?” he asks, rubbing his eyes. All these sleepless nights are really starting to catch up to him.

“The hospital called. I need to go back tomorrow morning.” She says. “But I don't really want to leave you alone, so just tell me and I'll tell them to get lost. Nod if you want me to stay.”

Peter shivers. 

He doesn't want to be alone either.

_ But  _ he can't ask May to sacrifice her job just to babysit him. 

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

“No, I'll be okay. You - you should go back to a work.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine.”

“Peter, I was serious, you know? I'll stay here if you want me to.”

“It's okay, May. I'll- I'll be fine.” 

“Last chance to back out, Pete.” Peter smiles at her

“Don't need it. It's okay.” May eyes him suspiciously. 

“It's anything happens, you call me  _ immediately.” _

_ “ _ Yeah, I promise.”

“Alright, then.” She nods.   

**

“Peter!” Mr. Stark greets him loudly over the phone. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks groggily. He hasn't slept, May just left, and he knocked over his glass of water from the bedside table. Peter is already ready to go back to bed- if he could also sleep for longer than three hours it would be great.

“The one and only. Now, May texted me and said she was going back to work, so I though-

“You and Aunt May text each other?” 

“Occasionally. She sends me embarrassing pictures of you all the time.”

“I don't believe you, Mr. Stark.”

“Well, too fucking bad. Don't tell her I said that. Anyway, I was thinking, since you're home alone with nothing to do, that you could come over?” Peter smiles.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Cool, Happy will pick you in half an hour or so.”

“See you soon, Mr. Stark.”

“See you, kid.” 

**

Beside the shitty morning, Peter’s day is going pretty good.

His eyes are doing particularly good today, the ringing low and distant. Mr. Stark shows him the project of the new suit, and the amazing part of all this technology, is that Peter can zoom in as much as he wants too, so he can actually  _ see it.  _

“See, the nanobots need to work together, but just giving them an operating system won't be enough. They need to see the- kinda like the bigger picture, figure out what each bot needs to do, and do it fast.” Mr. Stark reasons out loud, and Peter nods beside him.

“What if you give each of them a- uhm, sort of preprogramming. Like if you were to save all the possible projects and prints in the memory of each bot, then the bot would already know what to do. So it won't take that much time to be whatever you need them to be.”

Mr. Stark stares at him.

“That's - that's a pretty good idea, Peter. It's gonna need a lot of memory storage, but I think it could be done. They'll still need a basic operating system though, if they have to go out the schemes. Or if some get damaged, the ones nearby could assign themselves to take their spots.”

“They'll need a lot of energy.”

“The Arc Reactor will be enough, it can be used a store unit too. So I'll have it on myself at all times.”

“You're gonna put the reactor back in your chest?” Peter’s eyes go comically wide as he stares at Mr. Stark.

“Of course not. Well, not  _ in  _ my chest, at least. More like, I'll stick it with super glue.”

“Mr. Stark, no.”

“ _ Tony.” _

_ “ _ Tony, no.” Peter says, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Fine, we'll worry about that later. Let's see about this program.”

**

Mr. Stark cooks him dinner. It's just chicken with a side of mashed potato, and the chicken  is a bit burned on the side, but it's still very nice.

They're still talking about the nanosuit -trying to keep up with Mr. Stark is exhausting, but Peter  _ loves  _ every second of it.

Some time later Natasha comes in the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. 

“Tony did you set the kitchen on fire again? Why does it smell so bad in here?” She sits on Peter’s  other side, winking at him.

“I didn't set anything on fire, ever.”

“Do I have to remind you of the Thanksgiving incident?”

“It was  _ one time!” _

“What Thanksgiving incident?” Peter asks, looking at Mr. Stark. The man groans.

“It was nothing!”

“What was nothing?” Clint asks, also looking for food. He starts opening all the cabinets, only to close them immediately after.

“The Thanksgiving incident.” Natasha answers, and Clint snorts.

“You call that nothing, Tones? I almost died.”

“Oh my God, that's not -

“Mr. Stark what  _ is  _ the Thanksgiving incident?” Peter asks much louder this time.

“I thought we moved on from this  _ Mr.Stark _ thing.”

“Makes you feel old?” Natasha jokes, and Tony glares at her.

“Now, kid, lemme tell you everything about the Thanksgiving incident.” Clint sits heavily beside Natasha, a bowl of cereal in front of him.

“Clint, I swear to God- 

Clint flicks a cereal toward Tony, hitting the man on his forehead.

“It was November 2013, I recall. Tony had one drink too much, but unfortunately he was also in charge of making the turkey. Everything was fine and dandy, we're just chilling waiting for the  turkey to cook, when the fire alarm goes off. So we all run in the kitchen to see what the fu- what the  _ heck _ is happening, and there Tony is! Staring at the oven that's literally on fire, water pouring down from the ceiling, Jarvis screaming and, most important, Tony burned off his eyebrows and most of his beard.” 

Peter is wheezing, trying to breathe between the fits of laughter shaking his body. Natasha is giggling beside him, whereas Tony himself is glaring daggers at Clint.

“We had to go out to eat, and we ended up in this shady ass place because Tony didn't want anyone to see him and they stole Banner’s wallet.” Clint takes a sip from his beer, smiling. “Pure gold.”

“Someone robbed the Hulk?” Peter screeches. “Ballsy.”

Peter looks back at Tony, now pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y'all are giving me an headache.”

“You always have those anyway, Tony, it's not our fault.” Natasha points out with a small smirk. Tony sighs.

“Yeah, you're right.” Peter nods beside him.

“Same.” he says. Tony looks back at him, sadness flashing through his eyes.

“You okay, kid?” 

“Yeah.” Tony nods then.

“Alright, time to go home.” 

Tony himself drive him to Queens in his Mercedes. The ride is quiet, some music playing in the background as Tony speeds through the city.

“Something's bugging you?” Tony asks sometime later, breaking the silence. Peter shrugs.

“I've been thinking- about going back to school. I just- I've been missing for over a month, and I don't want to fall behind, but also- I don't know if I could handle it.” 

“Why don't you take the rest of this week to think about it, yeah? Doctor Cho said to take it easy, though, so, like- don't stress out too much.”

“Yeah, okay, thank you, Tony.” The man smiles when Peter calls him by his name, throwing him a wink.

“Not so hard, after all, right, Underoos?” Peter chuckles quietly, rubbing his eyes. “Eyes bothering you?” 

“A bit, but it's fine. Just tired.”

“I'll pretend to believe that. Oh look! We're home.” Tony parks in front of Peter’s building, turning toward the teenager. “Same time tomorrow?” he asks and Peter smiles at him.

“Sounds good.” 

“Cool, Happy will pick you up tomorrow morning.” Tony says, patting his shoulder. “Say hi to your Aunt from me! Bye Spiderling!” Peter waves him goodbye, and then Tony is sprinting back through the streets. 

**

_ “Hey, pretty.” the voice says. Peter wants to scream, call for help, but his voice is gone. So he turns, ready to run away, but around him there's only heavy, thick darkness. It's suffocating, crushing . Peter can't breathe. _

_ The voice laughs. Hands grab his wrists, holding him down.  _

Plese, stop, no, no-

_ The hands pull at his hair, forcing his head back, neck exposed. The hands are there too, Peter feels them tightening around his throat.  _

_ He's going to die.  _

_ “Pretty, pretty boy, all mine.” _

_ Peter chokes out a moan, the darkness turning into a fire, burning flames ready to engulf him.  _

_ The only thing Peter feels is pain. More agonizing, more excruciating than anything he has ever felt before. _

_ It consumes Peter. _

Peter opens his eyes and the darkness his back, fingers ghosting over his skin, grabbing, bruising,  scratching. He rolls on his side, and falls off the bed, the floor hard under his chest. 

He looks up, fists clenched. 

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe. _

But he  _ can't _ . The man- the man is choking him, hands tight around his throat. Peter lifts one hand to his neck, fingers brushing over the skin, but the man's hands are not there. 

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe. _

He presses his other hand over his chest, pulling his knees toward his body. He feels like dying, the room spinning around him, head throbbing.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

It doesn't stop, the man doesn't stop, the pain doesn't stop, nothing does, and Peter is drowning, maybe has already drowned. He can't quite bring himself to care, the ringing is too loud.

It takes forever for the darkness to fade, and for the fire to die down. It takes even longer for the hands to leave, and the ringing never does.

By then, Peter has ripped off some of his hair, and his head is pounding, and he's left drained and more exhausted than ever.

Coldness sets in his bones, and Peter wraps his arms around his shaking body, silent tears still falling.

Peter climbs back to bed, and watches the sun rise until he has no more tears left, and the ringing quiets down to background noise.

**

“No offense, Peter, but you look like shit today.” Peter looks up from the digital model he's working on. 

It's true. The kid has bags under his eyes darker than Tony’s. He's pale, and jumpy and shaky. And he keeps rubbing at his neck, the skin a bit red. 

Peter shrugs, avoiding Tony’s eyes.

“I'm fine.”

“We really need to work on your definition of fine.” Tony puts down his screwdriver, and crosses the room to stand beside Peter. He doesn't miss the kid wincing, and takes a step back. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Like usual - I'm okay, Tony, you don't need to-

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Peter glares at him.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I don't know if you have noticed, kid, but I'm not exactly  a poster child for mental and physical health. Do not, and I can't stress this enough,   _ do not  _ act like me. You'll just give me an heart attack and I'm old enough that it might kill me.” Peter snorts.

“I think you make quite a good role model, Tony.” Peter answers with a small smile. Tony ignores the warmth pooling in his chest and clears his voice.

“Yeah, right. Anyway, have you eaten or not.”

“I drank some juice?”

“That's not breakfast, Peter.”

“I wasn’t hungry, okay? It's not a big deal.” Tony exhales a long, deep sigh.

“You're killing me, bud. C’mon let's go out, get something to eat.”

“I'm not hungry, though.”

“Kid.”

“I don't really-

“That wasn't a question, now, move it, let's go, I'm craving something overly sugary.”

**

Tony takes him to a Dunkin’ Donuts, and orders enough food to feed the entire Avenger team. They sit in one of the boots, the light blinding Peter’s tired eyes. Tony gives him one of his spare sunglasses, and Peter smiles at him.

Still, Peter doesn't touch any of the donuts, his stomach revolting at the simple thought of having to eat one of those things. Instead, he gets a smoothie, and even that is a struggle. 

He can tell Tony is worried, and he does know he looks like absolute crap -he did look in the mirror this early morning- but having to eat makes him want to puke. 

He lets Tony do most of the talking, everything around him a bit too bright and too loud and too crowded.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

“Pete, you okay?” he blinks, trying to focus on Tony instead of all the people around him, his skin is tingling unpleasantly. He doesn't want them this close to him.

_ Please, don't touch me, don't hurt me. _

“Yeah- I’m fine.”

“You don't look fine.”

“It's okay, it's nothing, Mr.- Tony.” The man sighs. 

“We should probably head back. I'm sure Clint can't wait to eat donuts for lunch.” Peter nods, relief washing over him. 

But as they step outside, Peter can feel himself slipping. The world tilts on his axis, everything goes dark and then goes back to white, blinding, spots dancing in front of him, and Peter can't see anything anymore. 

There's a hand on his arm then, pulling him up, and Peter jerks back, or tries to, at least. The hand is strong.

_ God, no, no, no, not again, please, no - _

The ringing is piercing, threatening to drive him crazy. 

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe. _

“Peter!” Peter blinks, he's sure he's crying but he can't feel feel the tears, skin prickling and itching. The hand is on his face now, tilting it upwards.

_ Don't touch me, don't hurt me, please, don't hurt me. _

“Peter, it's Tony-

“Tony- I can't -I can't see anything- i-

“Peter, you're going into sensory overload, you need to breathe. Focus on me, Peter.” 

Peter tries. His hands reach out for Tony, holding onto the man's arm like his life depends on it. It sure feels like it.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

Tony keeps rubbing circles into his back, and keeps talking, a stream of words that Peter doesn't understand but it's steady and grounding.

Slowly, the ringing quiets down, and colors start to come back. Peter didn't think he could hate white this much.

He wipes his cheeks with shaking hands, then wraps his arms around himself, his skin still too tight and uncomfortable. 

“Peter? You okay, kid?” he shakes his head. They're back in Tony’s car. 

“Can we go home, now?” Tony nods. 

“Yeah, of course.”

**

Tony takes him back home. May is still at work, but honestly Peter doesn't mind the silence.

“Feelin’ better?” Tony lingers on the threshold of the apartment, hands in his pocket. Peter nods.

“Yeah, I think I'll just- watch a movie or something.”

“What kind of movie?”

“I don't know, probably Star Wars. Haven't seen it in a while.” 

“Yeah, wouldn't want to forget any line.” Tony clears his voice. “I guess that's my cue to leave. Well, see you, Underoos, and, uhm, sorry about the - the Dunkin’ fiasco, that's- that's on me. Anyway. See you.” Tony pats his shoulder again, and then turns, and Peter can't help the small smile forming on his lips.

“Tony?” The man turns, playing with his sunglasses. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to stay?” 

“God, kid, I thought you were never gonna ask. Are you this slow with girls too? Or boys? We don't judge here.” Peter snorts.

“Do you want to come in or not? You're starting to attract people.”

“What can I say? I'm like a light to a moth.” 

Tony enters the apartment, throwing his jacket on one of the kitchen's chair. 

They settle on the couch, and Peter immediately wraps a blanket around himself. 

They watch The Phantom Menace. Peter does know all the lines by memory, and Tony thinks is terribly cute, in a nerdy, dorky kinda way. He should really go out more. 

Half way through the movie, though, Peter’s head drops on Tony’s shoulder, proceeding then to stay there. He starts snoring softly, and Tony’s heart clenches. 

He doesn't move, finishing the first movie and starting on the sequel, Attack of the Clones.

**

He's about an hour in when  Peter starts shaking, his breathing quickening. 

“Pete?” the teenage is frowning, he murmurs something too quietly for Tony to hear. He holds the kid closer, running one hand through his hair.

“Pete, wake up, you're having a nightmare-

“ _ Please-  _ stop-

“Peter, kid, you need to wake up-

Peter’s eyes snap open, wide and full of fear.

He rolls off the couch,  the blanket still wrapped around his shaking shoulder. Peter closes his eyes, burying his hands in his hair. 

“ _ Shit.”  _ he whispers.

“Pete? Are you-

“I'm sorry.” he says, effectively leaving Tony speechless. “Sorry, about that. I- I -

“Pete, it's okay, don't apologize for this-

“I just - wish I could - 

His voice cracks. He looks down, breathing deeply. Tony stands too, slowly, carefully. Peter looks like he's about to bolt.

“It's okay, Pete. It's over now.” 

Peter nods, wrapping the blanket tighter  around himself. 

“I'm okay.” 

“Do you want- to talk about it, maybe?” Tony asks, uncertain. God knows he never does, no matter how much Pepper insists. 

Peter, though, pales at the question, all the blood drained from his face. Tony is struck but how young and scared Peter looks right there and then, brown eyes wide and full of fear, terror.

He'll kill Ross. He'll kill Ross for doing this to Peter-  _ his kid. _

“No.” the teenager answers as expected. 

“It might help, talking.”

“You never talk about yours.” Peter retorts, looking like he immediately regret it. “Sorry, I didn't - I didn't mean-

“I know.” Tony sighs running one hand through his hair. “Fine, no talking, then.” he sits back on the couch, patting the seat next to him. Peter blinks once, then nods and takes the spot next to the man. Tony looks back at the tv, one arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling the kid closer.

He wasn't this scrawny before being taken. Tony burns with anger, but wills himself to stay still. 

Peter doesn't need him to go on a man hunt right now. 

Instead, they watch the rest of the movie, Peter still tense and fidgety beside him.

“You okay, kid?” Peter flinches, being pulled out of his head

“Yeah- I just- I'm a bit tired.” he says. Peter doesn't meet Tony’s eyes, but he does scoot closer, curling against the man.

Tony hesitates just a second.

“How often do you have nightmares?”

“Not- not  _ that  _ often. Just- sometimes.”

“Kid. Is sometimes every night?” Peter doesn't answer, staring at his hands. “Jesus. You're a terrible liar, Peter.” 

“Luckily for you.” 

“True that.” Tony runs one hand through Peter’s hair, the kid leaning into the touch. It breaks Tony’s heart just a little. “We don't have to talk about it right now, but we will, okay? Bottling up emotions is not healthy.”

“You do it all time.”

“Not a good role model, remember? We talked about this.”

“For what it matters, I think you're a great role model, Tony.”

It matters  _ everything _ , Tony thinks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!   
> Warnings:  
> -Panic attacks  
> -Mentions of torture  
> -PTSD  
> -nightmares   
> -Hallucinations


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys!  
> I'm so grateful to everyone who left comments an kudos in the past chapters, Y'all give me life.  
> Also, this is the last part of this story, it's been very intense writing this, but I hope you all enjoyed it.  
> As usual, please read the trigger warnings in the end, and be safe!

Peter tries, God he tries. He tries to function like a normal human being, tries to fall back into his old routine. 

He tries to sleep, and fails spectacularly every night, nightmares leaving him sobbing on the floor of his room.

He tries to not look at the scars, a mess of white lines all over his body, and  _ hates  _ them, because he can still feel the knife on his skin.

He tries to hang out with his friends, and panics every time someone touches him.

His eyes seem to be healed, though the same can't be said for his ears, and there are times when the ringing threatens to drown him.

He's so tired.

He goes back to school, which turns out to be a horrible choice. There are so many people, something always brushing against his skin.

Like right now.

He's in math, Ned beside him. 

Peter can feel the panic rising.

The sound of Mrs. Bell writing equations, the horrible, scratching noise of the chalk against the blackboard. A bird flying by the window, wings moving rapidly through the air. Ned chewing his gum. Someone laughs in the hallways. Footsteps. A pen tapping on the desk.

The lights are too bright. 

Peter’s finger brush over the scars on his wrists, messy and uneven and permanent. 

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

It's too much.

“Peter, are okay?” Ned asks, piercing his ears. 

It hurts a lot. 

_ Weak. Pathetic. Broken. _

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

Turns out that he can’t,  chest constricted by something heavy.

He has to leave.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

The bells rings, and Peter’s head explode, the world around him going completely black for several, excruciating seconds.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

He just has to get home.

He hears Ned calling his name again, but Peter ignores him, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He walks out of school as fast as he can without running. Outside, it's even worse. He thinks he might just pass out right there, in front of the school entrance.

But he doesn't. 

He makes it home, somehow, muscle memory taking over his body. 

He closes the curtains, doing his best to block out the light, which is still to bright, but it's the noise that is killing him.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

His phone starts ringing, and Peter whimpers in pain. It's Ned calling him, he refuses the call.

He just needs some quiet, so his enhanced senses will stop going haywire like this, so he can finally breathe. 

Maybe it's minutes, maybe it's hours, but then his phone goes off again and Peter wants to scream. It's Mr. Stark this time, but he ignores the call anyway. He thinks that if he hears any other sound his head might actually explode. 

God, it hurts.

Mr. Stark calls again, Peter turns off his phone, wishing everything would just  _ shut up. _

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe  _

“Peter!” He looks up, and then Tony is right there, staring at him like he has no idea of what he's looking at. “Peter, what's happe-

“Please, be quiet.” it comes out as a broken whisper, and Peter would be so ashamed if he weren't in so much pain.

“Sensory overload.” Tony murmurs. The man leaves, only to come back a few seconds later with something in his hand. Headphones. He hands them to Peter and he puts them on with shaking hands. 

Then, everything is quiet. Blissful silence. Peter gasps, as if he could finally breathe after being in apnea for so long. He looks up.

“Thank you.” he says, his own voice replaying in the headphones. Tony smiles at him, attaching a small microphone to the collar of his shirt. 

“Better?”

“Very much so.” Peter exhales deeply, exhaustion setting into his body . “Why are you here?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? You weren't answering your phone, and I knew May wasn't home, figured something wasn't right.”

“I- yeah, sorry.” 

“No need to apologize, kid.” Peter nods, laying back down on the bed. He rubs his eyes, wiping off the tears from  his cheek. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just tired.” 

“But the headphones help, right?”

“A lot, yeah- when did you even make this?”

“After last time, figured you'd need something to block out at least the noises. I was thinking about sunglasses too, but then I realized that you can't really wear sunglasses inside. So maybe i was thinking lenses, but i don't- do you even like lenses, I used to wear them and they were super uncomfortable,  but maybe you'd feel better- Peter?”

Tony looks down at the kid, asleep and curled up on himself, as if he wanted to make himself as small as possible. Tony sighs. He stands, pulling up the blanket over his shoulders. He runs one hand through Peter’s hair, pushing the soft curl out of his eyes. 

He turns off his microphone, and moves to the living room, opting to let Peter sleep. He looks like he needs it. 

He looks around, not knowing what to do with himself. It's way too early to think about dinner, and he doesn't feel like watching tv, so in the end he ends up of the floor with a bunch of papers scattered around him, as he works out some equations and designs for his new suit. 

He's just started to consider upgrading Peter’s suit, a couple of hours later, when the kid scream.

It has Tony panicking in a second as he burst in the kid's room. 

“Peter -

Peter is on the floor, on his hands and he knees, shaking and panting, looking like he's about to puke.

He ripped off his headphones, and his head snaps toward Tony when he hears him enter. His eyes are rimmed and bloodshot, wide and dark. Tony doesn't like that look at all.

“Peter.” he says again, and the kid jerks back, as if burnt. 

“You're not real.” he grits between his teeth. Tony freezes. 

“I am, Peter. You're home. You're safe.” he talks quietly, slowly approaching Peter. Peter’s hands wrap around his own wrists, where the cuffs used to stay and where now there's only scarred flesh. 

  
  


Peter stares at Tony, his mind that seems to be running in loops.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

He tries to. He tries to remember, to figure out what's happening. The ringing is loud, though, making it almost impossible to think. 

Peter remembers the knife. The coldness of the blade pressing into his skin, tracing lines and circles, creating a pattern that Peter doesn't understand. 

He looks down to his hands, they're shaking, and covered in blood. There's so much blood, his blood, it's everywhere, Peter can taste it in his mouth, metallic and- he's going to puke. His legs move under him, and then he's bent over the sink, throwing up everything he ate at lunch. 

At some point his brain catches up with him, and he registers the hand petting his hair.

“No, no- please -not again- I can't -

“Peter! Peter, look at me, kid, it's me, it's Tony, you're home, you're safe- Peter  _ look at me- _

“Tony?” Peter’s voice cracks when he speaks, throat burning like acid. 

“Yeah,  kid, just me, no one's gonna hurt you.”

“I- I don't - I don't understand - 

Peter stop mid-sentence. He stares at Tony, tears filling his eyes.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

He takes Tony’s arm, and his hand doesn't go through. He exhales deeply.

“It was a nightmare. It wasn't real.” he says outloud,  mostly to himself. When he looks up, Tony is staring at him, eyes soft and sad. Peter withdraws his hand.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologise for this, Peter, it isn't your fault.” 

“It's just that- i- 

“Peter-

“I  _ hate  _ this, I wish I could just- get over it and be  _ normal-  _

“Peter, what happened to you was traumatic, recovery it's gonna take time-

“But I'm  _ Spider-man,  _ I'm a superhero, how- how am I supposed to save people if- if I can't even- I couldn't - I couldn't even save  _ myself.”  _

_ Weak. Broken. Dirty. Worthless.  _

Somewhere, far away, he hears Tony calling his name again, but now Peter can only hear the ringing, impossibly loud, the voices - Tony’s voice and May's voice screaming at him, shouting the same four words until they're burned in his brain.

Someone grabs his wrist.

“Peter look at me, c’mon, kid-

“ _Don't_ touch me.” Peter whispers. Tony’s hand drops back at his side. “Sorry, I'm sorry, it's just that- he- held my wrists when - _God.”_ Peter can't even say. He can't.

_ Pretty, pretty boy, all mine to use. _

_ Dirty. _

Tony is hesitant when he speaks again.

“Peter - did something else happen, in the Raft? Something you didn't tell us?” 

Peter looks away, tears filling his eyes. He's shaking, trembling like a leaf.

“I- he-

“Who's ‘he’, Pete? What did he do?”

“A guard- I don't know- I don't know his name.” Peter stares at the floor, face burning. 

What if Tony hates him after? He  _ is  _ dirty, disgusting. What if Tony leaves him? What if  _ May  _ does? Peter doesn't think he could take that.

“Pete, kid, look at me, please.” Tony’s voice is soft, gentle. Peter looks up.

“What did he do to you?” 

Peter looks away. 

“You'll hate me if I tell you.”  

“ _ Hate _ you? God, Peter, I could never hate you.” 

_ You should,  _ Peter thinks, somewhere far back in his mind. Peter takes a deep breath. Then another. His heart is racing, the ringing is painfully loud. He doesn't look at Tony when he speaks.

“The man, he, uhm, he was the one to move me around- from my cell to the - to the Doctor's lab, or whatever. And one night, or at least I thought it was night, he- he came into cell- and he - he tied me up- beat me up a little- I tried- I tried to fight back, but I couldn't - I couldn't move, and the cuffs- 

“Peter, breathe, kiddo.” Peter feels like choking, and he feels the man's hands around his neck, and he feels the pain.

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

“He called me pretty.” Peter whispers, voice cracking. 

“Oh God, Pete-

“He called me pretty, and he - he choked me, and he held me down while he- while he-

“ _ Peter,  _ God, Peter, stop, please- 

Peter barely hears him. He can't breathe, the world has gone black one more time, and Peter feels the darkness pulling at him. He's drowning, he thinks.

_ Weak. Broken. Dirty. Worthless.  _

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

_ “Peter!”  _ he looks up, and Tony is staring at him with watery eyes.

“I'm sorry.” he says, because he managed to make Tony Stark cry.

“No, no, Peter, God, no.” Tony pulls him into a hug, and Peter doesn't flinch away, melting against the man instead. Tony rubs circles into his back, and runs one hand through his hair, and wipes the tears off his cheeks, and holds him close, holds him together.

“It wasn't your fault.” Tony’s voice breaks a little. “Peter, it wasn't your fault- I got you, now, kid, I'm - I promise, I won't let anything bad happen to you ever again, God, Peter, I'm so sorry.” 

Peter closes his eyes, buries his face in the man's chest. 

“You'll be okay, Pete, I got you now, I got you.”

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

_ ** _

Peter stares blankly at the tv, Tony beside him. He doesn't even know what they're watching. 

Tony has an arm wrapped around his shoulder, holding him close, and Peter feels safe there, he does. It's his stupid brain that won't leave him alone, hurting like Hell. He wishes he could stop thinking, even for a minute.

“You okay, kid?” Tony looks like he regretted asking as soon as he finishes talking. Peter supposes he looks like shit, definitely not okay. He shakes his head. 

“My head hurts, and I can't stop- I can't stop thinking about it, and the Raft- I'm really tired.” 

Tony nods.

“Not sleeping will do that. C’mon, let's get you into bed.”

“It's useless, I can't sleep anyway, I'll just wake up-

“You'll wake up, and I’ll be here, and you'll go back to bed, and we'll do it as many times as needed as long as you get a- a passable night of sleep. Move it, kid.” 

Peter blinks.

“Don't you have like,  _ things _ to do?”

“I told Pepper to clear my schedule, you're priority number one. And also, May is not home yet, what am I gonna do? Leave a traumatized kid all alone? Don't fucking think so.” Peter huffs a laugh.

“Okay then.”

“That's the spirit. Take a shower, go.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Go.” 

And so Peter does. When he goes back into his room, he finds Tony sitting on a chair beside his bed with a bunch of papers in hand.

“Trying out a new Web formula?”

“I- I was, yeah.”

“What's wrong with this one?”

“Nothing, usually, but sometime they rip so I figured I'd try to make a stronger one without losing any elasticity.”

“Any progress?”

“Eh, working on it.”

“Maybe we can work on it together tomorrow, at the Lab. Chemistry is not my strongest suit but I'm sure we can come up with something.”

“Sounds good.” 

“Get into bed, now, you need to sleep, Underoos.” Peter eyes the bed, uncertain. The memory of the last nightmare, just a few hours ago are still very fresh.

“And you'll stay here?” he has to ask. It's stupid, he knows it, but he doesn't want to be alone. Tony smiles at him. 

“Won't move an inch.” Peter nods, getting under the blanket. 

Then Tony starts talking. He tells Peter about the nanosuit, tells him that's he's done a great job so far, then he tells Peter about something Clint did yesterday, and how Natasha always has to clean up his mess, much like Pepper does with Tony. He tells Peter about Pepper too, how they got together, and Peter can see it right in front of his eyes. He tells Peter about Rhodey, and all the stupid things they did together over the years. 

He talks and talks, and Peter listens, Tony’s voice soothing and calming and familiar, and Peter falls asleep still thinking about a young Tony setting havoc on the MIT campus.

**

_ Hands holding him down, bruising. Pain shooting through his body, blood running, spilling from his veins. A laugh. More hands. No air. _

_ He's drowning. He's drowning and he wishes he could just die. _

“Peter!” he opens his eyes then. He's in his room. Tony is there, ready to catch Peter when he almost falls off the bed. He only touches Peter’s shoulder, and that's good, Peter can handle that. 

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

“Shh, it's okay, Peter, it's okay. It was just a nightmare. You're home. You're safe.” 

Peter stares at the man, trying to make sense of the spinning world around him.

_ A nightmare.  _

“It wasn't real.” Tony shakes his head.

“No, no it wasn't.” Peter nods. He falls back in the bed, exhaling deeply.

“What did you dream?” Peter stares at the ceiling. 

“Him. It's always him.” Tony doesn't ask further and Peter thinks that maybe neither of them is ready to talk about it. 

“Is May home?” 

“Yeah, she came back a few hours ago. She's sleeping.”

“You can go- if you want to.”

“I know.”

“You're not- you're not going?”

“Told you I'd stay. I like to think I am a man of my word.”

“Tony -

“Kid, you're ridiculously smart, but you're also very dense sometimes. I told you I'm not leaving you. Not going anywhere. You'll have to deal with me for still a long time.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“No problem, kid. Now, try to sleep a bit more, it's only three.”

**

Peter wakes up at the smell of bacon. He looks over at his clock and finds out it’s nine. Peter blinks. He can't remember the last time he slept so long. Then he takes in the sight of Tony with his feet propped up on Peter’s bed, snoring softly and definitely drooling a bit. 

“Tony?” The man wakes up suddenly, almost falling off his chair.

“Pete? You okay, kid?” 

“I- yeah. I'm fine.” Tony blinks, confused.

“No nightmares?”

“Not this time.” he says, smiling.

“Who's burning bacon?”

“May, probably.” Peter laughs and he just- he feels good. Tony pats him on the shoulder. 

“God, I'm too old to sleep in and chair.” several of his joints pops when he stands up.

In the kitchen, May is, in fact, burning bacon. 

“Good morning sleeping beauties. How did you sleep, Pete?”

“Uh, pretty good, actually.”

“I'm glad, alright, who wants to go out for breakfast?”

**

After breakfast Tony takes Peter back to the Compound, but instead of going to the lab, Tony drops himself on the couch in the living room.

“How about a movie, kid?” Peter nods, taking a seat close to the man. “Pick something.”

“How about the Lion King?”

“A cartoon?”

“It's a great movie!”

“Sure, fine. Why not?” Peter smiles, briefly leaving the couch in order to get a blanket to wrap himself with.

When he looks up, Tony is staring at him. It's intense, Peter thinks, too many emotion twirling in the man's eyes for him to decipher them. 

“Tony?”

“It's my fault.” the man says. In the background, Simba roars. 

“What?”

“What happened to you. It's my fault- if I'd gotten there sooner, or- or if I had found you faster- I just-  _ shit.”  _ Tony runs one hand through his hair, looking away from Peter. “Shit.”

“Tony, it's not your fault, it- it never was- i-

“I should have protected you. You are my responsibility. Christ.”

“No,  _ no,  _ Tony, it wasn't your fault, you couldn't have know -

“I should have done better. I'm sorry, Peter.”

“I don't blame you. It's not you who hurt me.” 

Tony shakes his head, chest heavy. 

“I'm sorry, kid.” When he looks at him, Peter stares back, eyes wide and watery. Peter nods.

“I forgive you.” 

Tony doesn't deserve this kid. He just doesn't. He exhales deeply, pulling the kid into a hug.

Peter lets himself be held, burying his face in his chest. He's shaking a bit. 

“I love you, kid. I need you to know that.”

For a second Tony thinks Peter isn't gonna say anything, that maybe it was too much, even if it's true.

“I love you too.” 

It feels like breathing again. 

“Christ.” Tony pulls back, one arm still wrapped around Peter. “You made me all sappy and shit, kid.”

“I didn't do anything, you always were sappy.”

“Maybe you're right.”

“As always.” Tony smiles at him, then settles back on the couch, holding his kid close.

There's silence for a while, as they watch the movie. Then Peter asks.

“Do you think- do you think that I'll be okay?”

“Yes.”

“But how can you be so sure? What if- what if they broke me?” and Peter’s voice cracks a bit bit and he doesn't look at Tony, and Tony’s heart aches.

“Because you're the strongest person I know, Peter. And you're not alone in this, you're not broken, Peter.”

“But how do you  _ know?” _

“Because you're still fighting, that's how. You'll be okay, it will just - take some time.” Tony sighs, holding Peter tighter.

“Thank you.”

“It's the least I can do, kiddie.” Tony pauses. “Maybe- maybe it would be good for you to see a therapist, someone that can help you.”

Peter doesn't answer immediately, silence stretching out. 

“You don't have to-

“No, I want to. I think- I think you're right. I- I do need help.”

“Alright, then. I'll call Doctor Cho tomorrow, see if she knows someone.” 

“Thank you, Tony.”

“You'll be okay, Peter.” Tony says, placing a soft kiss on the kid's hair, Peter curling against him- small and hurt but still fighting, always fighting.

“I know.”

_ Focus, Peter. Breathe.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!   
> Warnings :   
> \- Mentions of rape / Non - con   
> -Nightmares  
> -Panic attacks  
> -Swearing  
> -Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Kidnapping  
> -Drugs  
> -Semi- Graphic description of violence (mostly blood, Peter getting the shit kicked out of him)  
> -Sensory overload  
> -Panic attack  
> -Suicidal thoughts  
> -Rape/Non-con (Not graphic)


End file.
